


Dream Sequence

by Zee



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Table Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 06:50:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9589529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zee/pseuds/Zee
Summary: There was no way that the real Veronica wouldn’t know what to do in this situation, Betty was sure of it. There was no way that Veronica hadn’t done this before, in New York, with people who knew what they were doing much better than Betty did.





	

**Author's Note:**

> one of my hopes for this fandom is that we all commit to utilizing Pop's as a set piece in fic, who's with me

The lighting in Pop’s was always that strange, unique combination of the harsh yellow that came from overhead and the slightly-hellish red of the neon bars on the windows. The red grew softer the further you moved away from the windows, which was partly why Betty had always gravitated towards the window booths. She had so many memories, a whole childhood’s worth, of Archie looking at her with one side of his face lit almost as red as his hair, the other side normal, the light seeming to be almost blue in comparison.

And now she had memories of Veronica looking at her the same way. The lighting seemed more sinister on her features than it ever had on Archie’s, the red highlighting the sly arch of her eyebrow and the curve of her smirk. Whenever Veronica looked at her, Betty wondered what her own facial features must be doing, wondered if her eyes or the shape of her mouth gave away her rapid pulse. She doubted she ever looked as calm or as cool as Veronica did.

Veronica was making eyes at her over the top of a strawberry milkshake, her lips wrapped neatly around the straw. Betty looked down at her placemat, but she didn’t have a milkshake of her own, or any onion fries. Instead her pom-poms were on the table. But she wasn’t wearing her vixens uniform, was she? No, she was, but she could have sworn that a second ago she’d felt the warm scratch of a wool sweater against her arms instead.

“Thirsty?”

Veronica held out the glass. It was cold and frosty when Betty took it from her, but when she went to take a sip it was empty. There was a slight waxy texture around the straw that Veronica guessed must be residue from Veronica’s lipstick. But this was a different shade than what she’d smeared all over Betty’s face when they’d kissed. The only time they’d kissed.

“It was only the once because you haven’t exactly been sending the right signals,” Veronica said. “Or like, any signals at all. I kissed you hours before I kissed Archie, you know, but somehow that’s not what anyone has paid attention to.”

“It was a joke. Shock value. And you never said anything.” Betty rattled off the words quickly; they came easily, considering these were the arguments she’d been repeating to herself over and over for the past week. 

“Signals, remember? Anyway.” Veronica waved her hand dismissively, nails painted a perfect dark purple. As they caught Betty’s eye, they shifted red. “There are so many reasons that you should just go ahead and do the thing you’re thinking about.”

“How do you know what I’m thinking about?”

Veronica ignored the question. “One, it would piss off your mother. Two, it would piss off Cheryl Blossom.” Her hand was up in Betty’s face now, each finger ticking off a number. “Three, it would delight Kevin. Four, this is obviously a dream, so why not? Five, you know I want to.” 

That last point hung in the air, creating a vulnerable silence, and now Veronica wouldn’t meet her eyes. When Betty reached to take her hand, five fingers still up in the air representing five excellent reasons, Veronica swallowed and Betty thought her hand might be shaking.

Betty had never known her to be shy or submissive. It must be because this was a dream. 

Did that mean that her subconscious longed for a Veronica who blushed and swallowed nervously, who trembled at her touch? A Veronica who needed to be pursued, the polar opposite of the real Veronica, who seemed like she had never once in her life not been the pursuer. 

She found this thought disturbing, but not disturbing enough to keep her from tightening her grip on Veronica’s long fingers, from clutching at Veronica’s wrists to feel her heartbeat. Veronica gasped, and Betty wanted to believe that maybe outside of a dream she could still make Veronica gasp like this just by grabbing her hand. 

“You want to, huh?” Betty stood up, and felt a rush of heady vertigo when she glanced down at the table and saw that it was clear of her pom-poms, clear of the milkshake glass. Veronica’s wide eyes were trained on her as she climbed up on the table, the formica cold and hard against her bare knees. 

“Like I said, you already know that.” Betty was relieved that her subconscious hadn’t created a Veronica that was entirely meek. Veronica’s cheeks were flushed, but she held eye contact as Betty bent down and kissed her.

It was a dream; the lipstick didn’t smear. It was a dream, so Betty’s fingers had already found and slid beneath Veronica’s bra strap. Her other hand unzipped Veronica’s dress, eliciting another gasp, and it was strangely exhilarating that Veronica hadn’t touched her yet, that Veronica was just sitting and letting herself be undressed.

Veronica’s nipple hardened in Betty’s mouth when she leaned down to kiss it. Betty liked sucking on skin, it turned out. Liked trailing her teeth and tongue over Veronica’s chest, her collarbones, the proud lines of her neck. She liked pushing her nose against the soft baby hairs behind her ear, she liked hearing the soft breathy noises Veronica made from up so close. She liked touching, too, liked the shape of Veronica’s breast in her palm.

“Betty,” Veronica said, her voice strained, and now finally she reached out, her hands fitting onto Betty’s waist, bare below the edge of her cheerleading top. She had to reach up to touch her, Betty was at a higher vantage point up on the table, even if she was crouching low to mouth at Veronica’s breasts. “What should I…”

There was no way that the real Veronica wouldn’t know what to do in this situation, Betty was sure of it. There was no way that Veronica hadn’t done this before, in New York, with people who knew what they were doing much better than Betty did. But she was asking now in this dream, and Betty pressed her giddy laugh into Veronica’s sternum and grabbed Veronica’s hand, guiding it up her skirt and between her legs.

Veronica’s fingers were nimble and quick, nudging the fabric of Betty’s panties to the side and quickly finding where she was wet and slick. Betty stopped groping and kissing her in order to straighten up, giving Veronica better access. She stared up at the ceiling, only a couple feet over her head, as Veronica slipped two fingers inside her. If Pop’s hadn’t been empty, Betty would be looking down at every other diner in here.

The dream lost some of its concrete focus as Betty got more and more turned-on. There didn’t seem to be a specific moment when Veronica moved to using her mouth instead of her hand, just at some point it got wetter and hotter, and when Betty glanced down she could see the top of Veronica’s head, partly obscured by Betty’s skirt. She could also see her own hands, fingernails a pastel pink, fisted in Veronica’s inky hair. 

She woke up consumed by a sense of urgency. She couldn’t get her hand down her pajama pants fast enough, and didn’t think to question her dream until after relief washed over her. When it did catch up to her, when she was awake enough to realize that she’d just lived out a teenaged cliché by having a sex dream about her friend, it was hard to feel ashamed or embarrassed, even though she thought that maybe she should be. Mostly she felt aggravated. Who was Veronica Lodge, to worm her way into Betty’s dreams just a few weeks into the new school year? Betty had never dreamt about Archie doing anything like that to her, not once throughout the years her crush had lasted.

Her sheets were sweaty, tangled against her legs like she'd broken a fever. It made her contemplate faking sick and staying home. She'd never tried to fake sick, had always known that there'd be no point to it with her mother, who had sent her off to school with the flu before to build character. But she didn't know how it would be to meet Veronica's eyes today, and she was scared to find out. 

Her phone showed three missed texts from Veronica, all sent after Betty had drifted to sleep. The first one was a response to the conversation they'd been having about Teen Vogue; the second one speculated about the principal's motivations for giving them a free period on Friday in Jason's memory; the third wished Betty sweet dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> I am zeegoesthere on tumblr, feel free to come say hi!


End file.
